Establishment comes together to pay tribute to ‘charming’ Betty
It opened with cherished personal memories of this one-of-a-kind Speaker, whose steely grit and profound political conviction was matched only by her love of gossip over an “industrial strength gin and tonic, or two”.
It ended with a rousing rendition of Jerusalem, with loyal friends from all quarters of the British establishment on their feet to celebrate her memory.
Here was the life of Baroness Boothroyd, in all its multifaceted glory. Nearly a year after her death at the age of 93, this was the chance for friends, colleagues, admirers and political peers of The Right Honourable The Baroness Boothroyd OM to share their memories.
At the Church of St Margaret, Westminster Abbey, a congregation of politicians from the Left and Right filled the pews in honour of a woman known to the public as Betty and to MPS as “Madam”. She was the “gold standard for Speakers of the House of Commons”, they heard: the “charming girl who literally danced out of Dewsbury” whose famous description of a “combination of headmistress, nanny and pub landlady” came as close to accuracy as anything.
She would brook “no grandstanding, no windbaggery, and had no tolerance for long supposed questions without an actual question”, Lord Robertson of Port Ellen said. “Spirited, fearless, kind, humorous, full of common sense, quick-witted, forthright, and fairminded; she was also steely and determined,” wrote Sir Nicolas Bevan, who worked for her as Speaker’s secretary and was tasked with introducing her Order of Service. She “loved a good party”.
It is tempting to guess that Baroness Boothroyd would have been delighted by the turnout: a full church humming with chatter about the latest political gossip and theatre shows worth seeing.
Described as the “parish church of the House of Commons”, St Margaret’s was remembered by the Baroness in her will. On a blue, clear-skied day in January, light streamed through its glass windows. Friends, family, charities and former staff were directed to one side; parliamentarians on the other. Serving Lords mingling with a self-described “very insubstantial junior minister” of the past. The guest list was a truly cross-party affair. Sir Lindsay Hoyle, the current Speaker, leader of the opposition Sir Keir Starmer, the current Leader of the House of Commons Penny Mordaunt, and 1922 Committee chairman Sir Graham Brady were present, along with former Chancellor Lord Philip Hammond and Labour’s former foreign secretary Lord David Owen. Martin Bell, the former independent MP, and Neil Hamilton, leader of Ukip were there, along with Yvette Cooper and Sarah Brown.
Actress Patricia Hodge, wearing a black leather jacket, shared a prayer, and Dame Patricia Routledge gave a reading from Shakespeare’s Cymbeline from memory at the age of 94.
The first song, Battle Hymn of the
Republic, with its rousing opening “Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord”, sparked irrepressible grins between friends, who stood with chins up and shoulders back to raise the roof. It was a nod to an early career in America and her political apprenticeship with JFK. Not for Baroness Boothroyd the obscure Christian hymns which leave a congregation flicking through their orders of service for the words. This called for Jerusalem, I Vow to Thee My Country, and a performance of Elgar’s Nimrod on the organ.
Here was the British establishment in its uncomplicated glory. Most wore black, with a smattering of red, pink and green coats and hats dotted in the pews.
The congregation occasionally broke into laughter at the anecdotes aired: Boothroyd’s self-description (during an infamous run-in with Gerry Adams) as “the fat old girl”; the juxtaposition of her rise from “Tiller girl to National Executive Committee of the Labour Party”. “You didn’t mess with Betty Boothroyd,” said Lord Robertson. “Some tried and all failed. “She might have been the nicest, the warmest of people, generous and personable to everyone. But there was steel in her character which the unwary always underestimated.”
Lord Robertson recalled when an unwise soul tried to fob her off by suggesting she aim for a lesser position than Speaker, she had replied: “Tell them to get lost. I’m going for gold, nothing less.”
Men and women of a certain age nodded appreciatively at a description of her insistence on “no grandstanding, no windbaggery, no tolerance for long supposed questions without an actual question”. At times, the praise felt like a description of a disappearing world, where political courage and independent thought were encouraged and friends could disagree.
Hailing her “Yorkshire grit and steel”, the Dean of Westminster spoke of her resolve to “die in a ditch for the right to dissent” and “belief in radical disagreement and friendship”.
Lord Cormack, a Conservative MP of 40 years and now life peer, who counted Baroness Boothroyd as a dear friend, gave a warm account of an upbringing with loving parents who nevertheless were “vigorously opposed” to her pursuit of the bright lights of the stage. She pursued them anyway, becoming a Tiller Girl dancer, and later hailed the rigorous discipline it required as the ideal training ground for a life of performance in politics. Towards the end of her life, he said, the years after lockdown could be difficult and painful, with failing eyesight and heart difficulties. After a successful operation, she had been determined to deliver one final, defining speech in the House of Lords. It was not to be. Instead, a trusted colleague kept a written copy, which will be published soon in The House magazine. “I want to go out with a bang, not a whimper,” she told a friend.
Inevitably, each tribute made reference to what became Baroness Boothroyd’s Commons catchphrase: “Time’s up!” “Time will never be up for giving thanks for a truly remarkable Parliamentarian, colleague and friend,” said Lord Cormack.
It was left to Tricia Hillas, Chaplain to the Speaker of the House of Commons, to offer the consolation of a simple prayer.
“Let us give thanks to God,” she said, “for Betty.”